


The Case of the Missing Berk

by Archive_junkie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archive_junkie/pseuds/Archive_junkie
Summary: Dr Watson has misplaced his detective.  He went to look at a crime scene, but didn't come home.  John needs help to look for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fiction in years and the first that I have posted on AO3. Let me know how you think it's going. Updates may well be slow, but I will post when I can.

**The Berk**

John sat in his chair, a cup of tea balanced on the arm. The worn but comfy tartan chair that was perfectly placed to see both the telly and the weather out of the window. Well positioned for his favourite view of a somewhat lanky detective.

Tiredly, he watched his flatmate Sherlock who was tapping away at his phone, ranting at the ‘stupidity’ of the world in general, but Lestrade and Anderson in particular.

“I mean really, John. Why bother calling me in for anything if he’s going to let that idiot ruin MY crime scene? By the time I arrived, all the pertinent evidence had been destroyed! Not a thought about how I was going to solve this case when the whole bloody place had been walked over. I think I should head back down there and see if it’s possible to salvage anything now Anderson has left. What do you think John? John, are you listening to me?”

With a small start, John straightened up from his slouch. “Erm, sorry Sherlock. You were saying? I’m afraid I was off in my own world for a moment there.”

“Hmm, clearly. Are you alright John? I was saying I should go back to the crime scene now that Anderson has buggered off to Donovans place.”

“I’m ok Sherlock, just a bit tired is all. It’s been a really long week, between work and cases. Do you mind if I don’t go this time? I just want to go to sleep until the middle of next week.”

Sherlock smiled, getting up from his chair and moving towards the door. On his way past, he placed his hand on Johns shoulder and dropped a small kiss on the top of his head. “That’s fine John, I know you can’t keep up with me all the time. Why don’t you get a hot shower and head off to bed? I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Thanks Sher. Love you.”

Sherlock was already putting his coat on but paused before he wrapped his scarf ‘round his neck. “I love you too. Now get to bed, you’re no good to me in this state.” Then he was out of the door, shutting it a little too firmly, a muffled “Sorry!” was heard before he clattered down the stairs and out of the front door, into the night.

Dragging himself out of his chair took more effort than John anticipated and he cursed quietly, hating the years that were catching up to him recently. "Christ, your getting old Watson." A hot shower and a comfy bed were all he was good for tonight, he thought.

Some time later, the sun crept across his face and John slowly surfaced from his slumbers to realise that the other side of the bed was cold and the pillows were undented by Sherlocks head. Lifting himself up on one elbow, he looked sleepily at the alarm clock and saw that it was well into the morning. Frowning, John sat up and ran his hands over his face, before rising and wandering into the main room. Perhaps Sherlock had lost track of time again and would be found defiling their kitchen table with a noxious experiment of some kind. Again.

There was no-one there. The main rooms were as they had been the night before when John had gone to bed. Perhaps he'd already been and gone? John looked towards his mobile, where he'd left it on the coffee table to check if Sherlock had sent a text, but nothing. It was years since he'd not stayed in touch during a case.

Puzzled, John moved towards the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. It was a matter of moments to text Greg.

Have you seen Sherlock at all since last night? JW

He was stirring his cuppa and contemplating the possibility that the bread might be edible when the reply came in.

No, sorry John. I thought he went back with you? GL

 

At this John started to feel a cold tendril of worry worm it's way down the back of his neck. Perhaps he should try him directly?

Where are you love? Thought you'd be back by now. JW

Moving towards the bathroom, he completed his morning ablutions in a perfunctory manner. No sense in fretting. He might be at Barts. John would text Molly in a bit if he didn't hear back.

An hour later, John was ready for work and starting to really fret. He'd heard nothing from Sherlock and Molly had replied to his lightly vague request regarding Sherlocks whereabouts with a negative. Pondering for a moment, he picked up his coat and called Sherlocks phone one more time without reply. Putting his coat on and looking around for his keys, he called Sarah to say he wasn't going to in today.

"Is everything ok John?" Sarah sounded worried.

"I'm not sure to be honest. The berk went out last night to check a crime scene and he's not come home." John frowned as he tried to think where his partner might have gone.

"Well, that's not unusual though is it?"

"Yes, I mean no. Not really. But he does let me know when he's not coming home and I've not heard anything from him since he left last night. I'm just going to pop down to the yard and see if Greg can tell me anything."

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything and if you're not coming in tomorrow. I'll call one f the other locums to cover for today. Speak to you soon."

John closed the front door behind him and stepped onto the pavement already looking for a cab.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Greg looked up at the knock on his door to see the doctor standing in the open doorway with a look of concern on his ace.

"Hiya John. What's up? Has he not called you yet?"

"No, and I'm honestly starting to get worried Greg. Did anyone from here see him last night at all? He left me at about 8 and said he was going back to yesterdays scene to see whether Anderson had missed anything. He normally wakes me up if he comes home late, but he wasn't about when I got up and he's not answering his mobile."

"Have you asked Mycroft? He might be able to help."

"No. Not yet anyway. I was hoping he was just busy and his phone was out of battery. But if you've not seen him and Molly hasn't either, then perhaps I should."

 

"Well, take a seat then and I'll grab you a coffee while you give him a bell."

John sank gratefully onto the proffered chair in front of the DI's desk while he pulled him phone out of his pocket. It was answered on the 2nd ring. "Good morning Dr Watson. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Is my dear brother causing trouble again?"

John stifled a sigh at the long suffering tone the the voice of Holmes senior. "Morning Mycroft. Just trying to find out if you've heard from him since yesterday at all? He didn't come home last night and he's not been in touch. It's not like him. He always lets me know where he is, ever since he came back. I've tried calling and neither Molly or Greg have heard from him either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a pause from the other end of the line that told John a lot, but not necessarily anything good. "I have not spoken to him since last week when Greg and I visited for dinner John. Would it put your mind at ease if I were to take a look at the cameras on Baker Street for you? What time did he leave?"

"Thanks Mycroft. He went about 8pm yesterday evening. He was headed towards St John's Wood to take another look at the crime scene from yesterday morning. He said he would be back later, but..."

"Thank you Dr Watson. I have asked my assistant to pull that up for you now. As soon as we have had a look through it I will call you back. Where are you at the moment?"

John took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm at the yard right now."

"Good, good. Stay there for now. Is the inspector there with you?"

"Gregs getting some coffee but I'm in his office."

"Excellent." John could hear the slight smile in the voice coming down the line. "Could you let him know that I will be popping by with the images in about an hour? Tell him I'll bring some decent coffee too. The stuff the yard has is only good for pig swill." The shudder was almost audible.

Smiling in spite of his distress, John replied that he would. "If we get this all sorted out, are we still on for dinner next week?"

"Of course John. Gregory and I were looking forward to it. I will get back to you as soon as I can. Goodbye."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long to post. It's been sitting on my pc for ages. I'm not happy with it, but I can't leave it any longer. Let me know if you have nay ideas for where I can take this next.

Chapter 2

Waking up was slow. Sherlock came to in fits and starts. Hearing was first, with bits of dialogue heard in a dreamlike way. As his brain caught up, understanding slowly dawned that he was not where he thought he would be, at home in bed with John.

The voice he heard seemed to be on the telephone. "You need to get back here. No, I was interrupted. I think it's that Holmes bloke from the papers. Well I didn't know did I?" The man, for the voice was rough for all it was going up in pitch with distress, continued. "What should I do with him? I can't leave him here, he saw me! You're where? But that'll be ages, what am I supposed to do with him 'til then?"

Sherlock tuned out for a bit, trying to remember where he was. He'd left the flat to go back to the crime scene. The man had only spoken about 'him' so where was John? Ah, yes. Probably still at home then. Sherlock wasn't sure of the time as he'd not opened his eyes yet, but there didn't seem to be much traffic noise, so it must still be early. The crime scene had been in St John's Wood, not too far from the main road. If it was any later than about 7, he should've been able to hear cars and lorries quite well. It was a bit chilly, which was to be expected for the time of year, but not cold, so he must be inside.

He recalled that the scene had been in a house rather than a flat, on a side road. The lights had been off when he arrived and there had been an officer outside. The pc on duty had asked if Sherlock minded him grabbing a coffee from the caff on the main road and Sherlock had replied that as long as he got one for him too then that would be fine. But did say not to be too long as he wanted to get back home.

He frowned slightly. Things were starting to get a bit fuzzy after that, so he concentrated on figuring out the state of his transport. He was restrained, but not painfully so. His captor therefore was either inexperienced or not planning on letting him leave alive. His head hurt which probably explained the fuzziness. A blow to the head then. But he didn't feel like he was bleeding, so he'd either been out a long time or the blow was just enough to knock him out without breaking the skin. His hands were tied between his knees which were also tied together and he'd been placed on his side. A precaution against him vomiting, so the man didn't wish any serious harm to come to him.

After a few minutes of thinking that john was going to kill him if he got murdered on a case without him, Sherlock decided there was nothing to lose by finding out what was going on.

"Excuse me, could I have some water please?"

The man on the telephone spun round in surprise. He was younger than Sherlock had expected and seemed frightened rather than angry at being spoken to. The hand holding the mobile phone held away from his face, his mouth hung open while the voice on the other end of the phone seemed to continue without his input. Slowly, he raised it back up to his ear and without breaking eye contact with the man tied up in front of him, spoke into it. "Erm, he's awake. Not really, he asked for a drink. OK, I'll call you later then. Bye."

The phone was placed on a table that held various detritus left behind by the crime scene team and he walked over the Sherlock and lifted his chin. The young man looked at Sherlock for a moment before asking, "How are you feeling? Any nausea, dizziness?"

Sherlock was a little surprised by the consideration. "No, I'm fine. But I could really do with a drink of water if you have any." His captor nodded briefly and left before returning a few moments later with a glass of water taken from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about all of this, I really am. It all seems to have got away from me a bit. I only came back for some of my things." He actually did seem upset to Sherlock. He was fairly young and as Sherlock looked at him more closely, he could see that there was over a days growth on his chin and dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were good, but had been worn for several days and slept in too, judging by the creases. In fact, the more he looked at him, the clearer it became this this was not the person the police were looking for in relation to the crime they had called him in on in the first place.

"Why are you here? You don't live here or I would've noticed the first time I came with the police. You're young too. What, 23 ish? Can't be older than that. You don't look like you are related to the victim either. Oh, partner. I see now. Not been together long enough to move in, but long enough to keep some of your things here."

"Stop please." The young man said quietly. He seemed more upset than before and took an deep breath before continuing. "Gerald is my partner. We've been together about 6 months. I'm still at uni, post grad physics. I usually come every other weekend so I can work. Fees you know?" Another deep breath, huffed out with hunched shoulders. "He didn't want to tell anyone about us yet, he's not out to his family. I don't know who did this, but I was trying to save his parents seeing my stuff here and finding out."

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Where were you this morning then? You can't have been too far away but it's only Thursday, so unless you didn't have a lecture tomorrow you'd still be away."

"I'm only at UCL, so it's not that far away from here. I live out in Brent Cross though. I was at home working on my thesis yesterday and it was on the news. Thought I should come and get my things...." He seemed to run out of steam, face sad.

Sherlock felt a weight on his chest, a moment of pity for this young man. "What's your name?" He asked. The younger mans head raised at the question, worried. "Don't worry, I can see you are not a suspect."

"James. James Stuart"

"James. Could you tell me who you were talking to just now?"

"My brother. I didn't know who else to call." He seemed to reach a decision, pulled his shoulders straighter. "What will you do if I untie you?"

Sherlock was surprised at the question. "Call my husband. I seem to have been gone all night and he'll be worried by now."

Regret flickered across James' face for a moment. "I'm sorry. I broke your phone. I thought it could be traced or something... Can I call someone for you?"

"Perhaps. I was meant to be looking about the crime scene here. There's still a murder to solve. Don't you want that? Someone killed your partner."

"How can I help?" James asked sincerely. "I've read about you. You can find out all sorts by just looking, but is there anything else I could do?"

The detective smiled. "You could help by telling me what is out of place, but you'll have to cut me loose first."

"Ok. I'll just get some scissors." James left the room briefly, moving into the kitchen again and returning with a pair of kitchen shears that had seen a fair amount of use. It took a few moments for Sherlock to regain his feet as his legs were a bit numb.

"Right then, let's have a look about. Then I really must call John."


End file.
